


Wrap Me Up

by AngelsonBenders



Series: Static [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Michael Needs a Hug, Multi, Ryan and Michael centric, Ryan provides, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:30:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelsonBenders/pseuds/AngelsonBenders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones has kept his secret for eight years, but it only takes a second (and an unlocked door) for it to come crashing down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrap Me Up

Somewhere in the back of his mind he had always figured that he would get caught eventually. It was hard to hide a ‘habit’ like his when there were not one, but five boyfriends he spent pretty much every minute of every day with. 

Honestly, he was surprised he had lasted this long without one of them finding the little band-aid box full of razor blades he kept hidden under the sink, carefully tucked behind the cleaning supplies. He was even more surprised that none of them had ever questioned why he always insisted on having the lights off when they had sex, or why he sometimes flinched when one of them landed too hard in his lap. 

He always thought he would be caught by a stray hand running up his thigh, or by losing his boxers in the heat of the moment. Hell, he thought that maybe he would even tell them himself one day, but he never even considered that he would be caught like this; on a beautiful Saturday evening listening to the sounds of his boys lazily enjoying their day off. He could hear them around the house, Geoff was in the kitchen making some kind of homemade dinner that smelled amazing, something he didn’t usually have the time or energy for during the week. Ryan was in the dining room, probably reading something and keeping Geoff company. Ray and Gavin were in the living room playing some game, Peggle maybe. Jack was in the living room too, laughing occasionally at Gavin and Ray.

He had been so careful. Everyone was preoccupied, he was certain that no one would come looking for him, at least not for the few minutes he needed to clear away the static that had built up in his head.

It was Ryan who had caught him red-handed, literally, on the floor of their shared master bathroom with a bloody razor blade in hand. It was Ryan who stood in the door of the bathroom with his hand still on the doorknob, staring at him with wide eyes and a slaw-jaw as he took in the mass of cuts and scars that marred Michael’s thighs.

Michael could only stare back at Ryan as his thoughts raced. Hadn’t he locked that door? Was this it? Was he going to tell the others? Would they decide that they didn’t need someone as fucked up as him in their life? Would Geoff fire him once he realized how crazy he was? Seriously why wasn’t that door locked? Would they yell at him? Or would they ignore him? Or would they just stare at him like Ryan was doing because really it was starting to creep him out just a little bit.

Michael wasn’t really sure what he expected Ryan to do, maybe get mad, yell a little, tell him to pack his shit and get out, but he certainly wasn’t expecting him to turn around and walk out, closing the door behind him.

Michael stayed on the floor for a minute, processing. He had been so careful. Eight years of hiding and secrecy, ruined in a second. He felt a rush of shame, then anger at himself for letting this happen. How could he be so stupid?! He should have fucking waited until the others had gone to bed. He knew better than this. And WHY wasn’t the fucking door locked?! 

For a moment his head spun in a dizzy sort of rage as he raised his fist in the air and brought it down hard on his still bleeding thigh. He sucked in a sharp breath as the newly formed scabs ripped open and sent pain racing through him, draining the suffocating anger away.

He took a deep breath as his head settled back on his shoulders and started wiping up the blood from his thighs. He stuck a few large band-aids over the parts that were still bleeding before finally standing. The cuts stung as he gently straightened his boxers and pulled up his jeans. He picked up the razor blade and wiped the blood off with the hem of his shirt before slipping it back into the box. He went to put it back in its usual spot under the sink, but stopped and slipped it into his pocket instead, unsure what to do with it now that at least one, if not all, of his boys knew about his little 'habit'.

With his clean up ritual finished, Michael found himself at a loss for what to do. Should he run? Go pack his stuff? Ryan didn't seem to want anything to do with him anymore, and once he told the others about him they wouldn't either. Maybe Ryan wouldn't tell the others? Maybe he should just go out there and pretend everything was normal. Maybe he and Ryan could just forget this whole thing ever happened. 

Wishful thinking. 

He should probably just pack his shit and get out before Ryan had a chance to tell the others. That way he wouldn't have to see his boyfriend’s crushed faces as they realized exactly how fucked up he was. That way he wouldn’t have to see their anger, their disgust, their disappointment. If he left now he wouldn’t have to hear them tell him to leave.

His mind made up, he moved towards the bathroom door that he swore he had locked before only to be blocked as Ryan came back holding an armful of first aid supplies.

Unsure of what to do, Michael stood still as Ryan’s eyes scanned him up and down, honing in on Michael’s thighs where he knew the cuts were.

“Sit” Ryan pointed at the toilet behind Michael, stepping further into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He set the supplies on the counter and waited for Michael to make his move.

Michael briefly thought about pushing past Ryan and just leaving, but he seriously doubted he could move Ryan if he wanted to and, to be honest, he didn’t really want to. He backed up without turning around, never taking his eyes off of his boyfriend as he lowered the lid and sat on top of it.

“Take off your pants.”

Under any other circumstances such a command would be hot, but sex was the furthest thing from Michael’s mind at the moment. Was this really about to happen? Sure, it was a nice fantasy and all, his boyfriends finding his cuts, cleaning him up and holding him as he spilled eight years worth of secrets and at the end they have mind blowing sex and hold each other and Michael feels safe and loved and all that warm fuzzy shit. Somehow reality was less fun, and all Michael felt was nervous and kind of sick.

Ryan patiently waited through Michael’s internal monologue, not even blinking as he watched Michael gingerly slide his jeans off and let them drop to the floor. Ryan quirked an eyebrow at him and he rolled up his boxers as well, revealing his cuts.

He flushed slightly as he watched Ryan take in the damage he had done to himself, the other’s blue eyes softening slightly as Michael squirmed, clearly uncomfortable with his secret so exposed.

Ryan moved to crouch in front of Michael, inspecting his marred thighs. As he lightly ran his fingers over some of the older, raised scars Michael shuddered. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had even seen his thighs, much less touched them. He jumped slightly as Ryan brushed one of the recent cuts, causing the older man to glance up at him.

“I’m going to have to take these band-aids off to clean them.”

Michael nodded and braced himself, knowing he had uncaringly slapped them over still-healing scabs. He flinched slightly as Ryan pulled off the first one, then the other three in rapid succession. Some of the larger cuts started bleeding again as he quickly moved on to the other leg, pulling the five off of that one.

Ryan frowned at the blood and grabbed a wad of toilet paper to wipe it away gently before standing to grab the rag he brought with him. He wet it with cool water from the sink before crouching back down in front of Michael.

Michael worried his lip gently as his boyfriend worked on his injured legs, the only sound in the room his occasional sharp breath as Ryan brushed a sore spot. He could still hear his other boyfriends milling around the house, and he marveled at how surreal it was that they were completely and totally unaware that one of their boyfriends was bleeding in the bathroom while another one was cleaning him up.

It was kind of scary what could happen right under your nose.

Ryan finished up wrapping Michael’s legs, properly this time, and sat back on his haunches, looking up into his boyfriend’s slightly watery eyes.

“Michael…”

He felt his heart drop at Ryan’s flat tone. This was it. He was going to tell him to get out, that they didn’t need someone as screwed up as him in the relationship. That he needed to pack his shit and get out.

He couldn’t help it, he started to cry. Harsh, choking sobs that had been held back for far too long ripped themselves from his throat as he curled up into himself. 

“I-I’m sorr-ry!” He managed to choke out. “Pl-please don’t make me leave!”

“Michael…” His tone was softer this time as Ryan stood up to hug his boy. “Michael, I love you. We love you. Please, baby, we’d never send you away. We want to help you.”

Michael tried desperately to calm himself but the tears kept coming until he was practically screaming. Vaguely he registered that his other boyfriends had come running at the sound, but he just clung to Ryan like a lifeline. 

He wasn’t getting thrown away. They weren’t making him leave. That was all that mattered right now. He knew that this wasn’t just going to go away, and that sooner or later they were going to have to talk about things like treatment and recovery and all the things that made Michael want to run away and hide, but right now, with Ryan’s arms wrapped around him, he knew he was going to make it.

Eventually.


End file.
